


Wolvesanger

by FlaminiaK



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Infinity War Thor, Jotunheim Won the War, Jotunn Loki (Marvel), King Thor, Laufey is actually good, Loki and Thor Are Not Related, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, so are the rest of Loki's family, young loki
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-14 18:02:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16497533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlaminiaK/pseuds/FlaminiaK
Summary: -ON HOLD-Jotunheim won the Great War and King Laufey dampened the Eternal Flame that kept Asgard's seidr alive.Now the Golder Realm is only a ghost of itself and Jotuns live happily like the main Guardians of the Nine Realms, while King Thor tries his best to not let his home crumble.Only, one day, a very curious Loki decides to explore the once formidable Realm together with his older brother Helblindi."Asgard was so terribly majestic, Loki thought, even when in complete ruin."





	1. Chapter 1

Asgard was so terribly majestic, Loki thought, even when in complete ruin.

The Jotun’s crimson eyes watched carefully the wondrous jungle that the overgrown orchards made, the famous apples of Asgard rotting away in the grass and under the bushes.

The sun rippling through the foliage above his head, little bugs flying about and multicolored butterflies perching on the crystal-clear edge of his curved horns.

Loki observed, a smile stretching his lips as he rose one hand. Slender fingers stroke the smooth bark of the nearest tree, watching how its pale, grayish hue contrasted so well against his own cobalt skin.

The deciduous trees had a thick carpet of died leaves around their tall figures and, among them, Loki could see phantasms of the glorious past of Asgard: the gargantuan statues of the old Kings and warriors were now reduced to colossal piles of rubble, the size of their feet as the only witness of their grandeur.

Then, Loki felt the terrain change under his feet and, looking down, he saw what once was a paved road, now missing pieces here and there: in times of crisis, afterall, the stone was more useful for repairs than like decoration.

The road led to what seemed to be the remaining of an arch, then another and another, more decaying statues laying at the sides of the Palace’s entrance.

The shiny gold of its walls was now tarnished, browns and reds peeking through the light-gray and the greens of the forest.

Taller than anything the young Prince saw, the Royal Palace was like a sleeping, wounded beast, its jaws open to let the allure of its treasures call from inside. “Loki…!” a frustrated whisper called from behind his back. “We need to head back, I don’t have a good feeling about it…!”.

Yes, they should head back. They shouldn’t even be here in the first place, Loki knew that very well, for all the laws his father declared the first one was to never enter the grounds of Asgard.

_‘Let the warriors die in peace with their honor intact’_ , King Laufey spoke of the Aesir, ‘ _they lost a war but lack of respect is a crime I shall not tolerate in my people’_.

But the lean, small Jotun wanted to see and touch first-hand the string of legends that surrounded the Golden Realm.

If Odin Allfather was half the powerful warrior and seidr-user the stories told… how much knowledge was laying dormant in the hallways and the rooms of the palace, then?

Loki felt his mouth water at the thought.

With a sharp smile that tasted of mischief, Loki turned to watch his fellow adventurer: his brother Helblindi… or Blindi, as Loki lovingly called him.

His older brother was three heads taller than Loki, dwarfing the common Mage cast with his Warrior body.

Helblindi’s crystal-like horns were straight as spears and his head was shaved clean like every fighter.

And Loki knew that, beneath that harsh and tense expression there was the same outgoing and cheerful character of their mother. “You don’t like this place?” Loki asked him, opening an arm to show him the empty woods they were in. “Even in death, Asgard is truly a gem of a Realm… there’s so much colors I don’t even recall their names!” he continued with a spin of his heels.

Leaves rustled underneath Loki’s feet, flying around as the younger Prince chuckled, and his long inky plait almost hit Helblindi’s side. “I never saw such a vibrant green or such delicate flowers before! Let me bask in it for a little while, would you?” Loki spoke softer now, his curved horns glistening in a stray ray of sun.

Helblindi rolled his eyes, emitting a little snort.

For all the cleverness his brother had, he truly acted like an overstimulated child.

That was the reason why Helblindi decided to follow Loki in that adventure, pulling some strings as the Second Prince of Jotunheim. “Calm down or your horns will fall off!” the older teased with a chuckle, moving one big hand to grab Loki’s shoulders with the entire palm.

What some would find this gesture threatening, it was instead deeply meaningful for the two brothers. “I’m glad you’re enjoying your time here, but father’s forbid this place for a reason.” the taller now frowned, eyes darting among the trees and, then, towards the entrance of the Palace.

The darkened hallways almost seemed to breathe, with all the dust swaying in the air. “Aesir are noble, but hurt… you never taunt a wounded Warg and expect to survive” Helblindi whispered, tightening his hold on Loki’s frame. “You’re scared?” the smaller grinned.

Loki’s crimson eyes glinted upwards to watch his brother’s face, the grin widening even more. “You’ll be Byleistr’s General when he’ll be King! You can’t be scared of an empty building!” joked, punching the older’s forearm.

Helblindi removed his hand from Loki’s shoulders and sighed loudly, sinking his hands inside the over-sized pockets of his jodhpur-styled pants. “A good General knows when to retreat, Loki.” he answered half-heartened. “and you’ll be Byle’s High Mage, who would take that spot if you die uh?” Helblindi now tried to stretch a smile in his face, without too much results.

Loki huffed and turned to face his older brother, crossing his arms on the chest. “Very well.” he spoke with a matter-of-fact tone. “If you want to go home, you’re free to do so!”

Silence fell between them, before Helblindi could open his mouth. “Loki–” “Go on, little frightened kitten!” came the reply.

“Loki I–”

“I’ll be here risking my life _all alone_ while you run under Mother’s skjort.”

“Listen Loki-!”

“And you’ll be the one explaining Father how you lost your little, defenseless brother…!” Loki concluded, taking the back of his wrist against his forehead, wearing a desperate look on his face.

Silence returned, heavier than before “Ok, ok, you won…!” Helblindi shrugged defeated, before a smug appeared on his lips.

Quickly, the taller pushed the smaller forward, brotherly tease in his eyes. “And you’re everything but defenseless, little snake! Go ahead, you theatrical brat, lead me in.” chortled Helblindi, watching how much his younger brother’s face lit up with happiness.

Immediately the two Jotnar started to walk, sinking in the shade of the abandoned Palace.

With a flick of a wrist and the crook of a couple of fingers, Loki created a green and gold flame in his palm, rising it up to create some light: as if turning back to life, the hallway shone with colors and shapes.

The pavement still had some of the polished, old glory and the interwoven mosaics flowed around their feet like waves of gold and silver and ruby.

The high ceiling of the entrance was still covered in old paintings, slowly moving back and forth thanks to the seidr that was trapped in the paint.

Telltales of past victories, the King of Asgard leading the Golden Army to defeat threat after threat: first the Titans, then the Dark Elves, then again the marauders that plagued the peaceful Vanaheim.

Odin Allfather was looking down at them with his stern, cerulean eye. A crown of gold rimmed his head and in his hand was Mjolnir, the great hammer full of powerful lightnings.

Loki knew of Mjolnir, how their father watched the weapon fall on the battleground to never be risen again.

The brothers walked down the hallway, reaching the main, circular hall of the Palace. The frescoes, now faded and indistinguishable thanks to the passing of time, reflected the true sadness of the realm through cracked marble and crumbled walls.

The air was filled with dust, piling up on the staircases in front of them. “You saw enough?” Helblindi whispered, slightly crouched with his hands ready to create icy weapons.

Loki moved forward instead of replying, his head tilted backwards to take in all the magnificence of the enormous room, tinted sepia by dirt and melancholy.

He could feel the memories trapped in the walls of the Palace, intimate remembrance of servants, guards and royals alike… there was happiness, sadness, even boredom.

Loki closed his eyes as his hand rested onto the handrail of the curving staircase, letting his seidr flow in and out of his body, natural and familiar like the beating of his own heart.

He could see the ghosts of the past trapped in the halls, he could hear their voices and feel their touches on his skin.

> _“The Queen asks for her tea.”  
> _ _“Have you tended to the horses, yet?”  
> _ _“The gardeners are late, again!”_

Mundane jobs, everyday banters and friendly teases between soldiers and court mages.

Loki could see them all shatter away as memories of war and famine and desperation came into view, sadness overwhelming him in the blink of an eye.

Blood appeared beneath the dust, dripping wet anew down the staircases, onto the walls and against the now empty windows.

A new voice, suddenly, boomed among the chaotic sounds of war, the screeching of metal and cries of soldiers.

> _"It’s too dangerous!"  
> _ _"Father! Please reconsider!"  
> _ _"You're dooming your people!"_

A violent snarl shook Loki down to the core and the small Jotun removed his hand from the railing as if it scorched it. "Loki, are you well?" Helblindi called out to him again. Only in that moment, the young Prince noticed the single tear now hanging on the edge of his jaw, the salt creating a shimmering path down along his heritage scars.

Loki nodded quickly, rising his cleaner palm to dry his face up. "Memories are quite potent here, Blindi, I'm fine." he huffed, breathing in and out deeply, oxygenating to keep his head together. "Let's see if the archives are around here, maybe we're lucky." the smaller added.

Letting slide what happened -seidr always made his brother empathic, afterall-, Helblindi nodded and gifted his brother a smirk. "I was hoping to find some silk, more than books. Jarnsaxa loves silk." he joked, instinctively rubbing circles on Loki's back.

The two chose to climb down the long staircase on the right, passing under another arch and sinking deeper into the bowels of the Palace.

The more they walked, the more they noticed that the place was dusty, but mostly untouched and intact.

Loki relaxed into his usual adventurous self, eyes flashing left and right, peeking inside every room available.

The younger walked in what seemed to be one of the royal chambers, tapestries hanging on the walls like corpses of a bountiful time and a lone set for embroidery sat on a dusty, puffy chair, near a collapsed terrace.

Loki passed his hand again on the chair’s backrest and brushed his thumb on it, feeling traces of a warm seidr slowly braiding with his one.

It was like an embrace, soft hands carding his inky locks and tender whispers cradling his heart.

_“You shouldn’t be here, sweetheart…”_

The voice wasn’t a memory, Loki could well distinguish the form of a woman -an Aesir woman- standing between the chair and the window.

Her silhouette was rimmed with the softest golden and amber light Loki ever saw, cerulean eyes looking at him behind a faint smile.

The small Jotun swallowed, seeing such a tender figure in that wretched place. “I…–” _“I see the cat got your tongue, sweetling.”_ the woman chuckled, taking a hand to her lips in the meantime.

She surely had the pedigree of a royal, seeing her slightly blurry clothes she was enveloped into.

With silk and sheer panels of gold and azure, the woman looked like an ancient sunrise. “I’m… I’m sorry, we’re meaning no harm…” whispered Loki, lowering his horned forehead.

_“We?”_ the woman chuckled.

Loki nodded slowly. “Me and my brother… he’s–” the small Jotun turned towards the door and his lips twisted in grimace: his brother was in another room, leaving him alone with what seemed to be a proper ghost. _“He’s snooping somewhere else, like curious little children.”_ she smiled even more, moving a hand towards Loki.

With a flick of her wrist, her image flickered and she moved a couple of steps towards the young Prince. _“I’m sorry to give you somber advice, sweetling, but Asgard bears no more treasures to be stolen. Please leave now.”_ she spoke then, her smiling face starting to fall apart.

Loki turned rigid, feeling immensely scolded as if speaking with his mother.

Then, he lowered his eyes bashfully, hands clenching each other instinctively. “I’m… I’m not here to steal, fair lady.” the young Prince spoke, rising then his eyes again on the woman. “I was hoping to find the Old Archives, to touch with hand the immense knowledge Asgard -I’m sure- still possesses.” Loki rose his hands, slowly. “I do not plan to take away any book, just take notes of my findings.” he added lastly.

The woman watched him carefully, almost studying him. “ _What about your brother?_ ” she asked, flicking her sky-blue eyes towards the door.

Loki jumped a little, tensing at the question. “He will not lay a finger on anything, fair lady! If it’st that what you ask of me, I’ll make sure he’ll respect the will of the dead.” the small Jotun lowered his head again in a slow bow. The ghostly figure, after a long second, let out a crystalline laugh. “ _My, my! You’re really good with words, are you?_ ” she chortled.

Loki blushed deeply, trying to hide his face bowing even lower. “ _And with a gentle heart too, I can see it…_ ” she whispered, before heavy footsteps could be heard. “Loki?? Where are you??” Helblindi’s nervous voice came from outside the room and the moment Loki snapped his head back, the figure of the woman was gone.

Was she still there, invisible, or she simply vanished?

Helblindi entered the room banging the door open and as soon as his eyes locked on his younger brother, his tensed features relaxed. “For Ymir’s blood, Loki, I thought you gone! Don’t ever scare me again like that!” Helblindi spoke hurriedly.

He quickly approached his brother and lowered his big palms to hug the entirety of Loki’s body in them.

The younger Prince smiled a little, trying to calm down his brother with the most _I’m sorry_ look on his face. “What were you doing here for so long?” Helblindi then asked, looking around the former royal bedroom “You’ve found something worth taking here?” the taller asked.

Loki shook his head, remembering the almost pleading request of the woman. “We’re not taking anything, Blindi… You said it, let’s not anger the Aesir.” the younger took his brother’s thumb and pulled him outside the room.

Once in the hallway, Loki’s ruby-like eyes saw a big double-door completely ripped open, panels of decorated gold now laying on the floor. “Here, look.” he whispered.

Multitude of claw marks etched the ground and the walls, as if something crawled from inside the strangely simple room.

Little pillars where aligned at both sides, after a little ramp of stairs leaning down.

The air was heavy, musky. "The Aesir Vault..." Helblindi muttered, watching the empty altars that, once, had the most powerful object in the entire universe.

Now half of those treasures were well hidden in a chamber deep inside the bowels of Laufey’s iced stronghold, safe from anyone.

Loki walked beside his brother, watching a big golden brazier at the end of the hallway: it was holding cold, dark pieces of coal.

That once held the Flame of Life, what gave Asgard its immense power.

When it was snuffed away by the freezing winds of the Casket of Eternal Winters, the very heart of Jotunheim itself, the war ended with the Jotnar victorious. "Father told me about it...“ Loki whispered. ”I wasn't born yet when he dampened the Flame. Byleistr was here that day, right?" Loki asked the brother, approaching the old glorified bowl.

Helblindi nodded, remaining few steps away from Loki. “Yes, he was mature enough to follow Father in the war…” he spoke softly, eyes wandering around in the vault.

While his younger brother seemed to sieve through the left-over seidr of the brazier, Helblindi looked around suspiciously. He was not happy to see such big traces of a fight without even the faintest trace of blood.

Slowly kneeling down, the Jotun passed his fingers against the grooves in the stone. The claws that left those marks would be twice his fingers' size and as hunting with the current King of Jotunheim taught him, creatures with such nails had even bigger teeth.

Then, Helblindi’s eyes slithered on the ground of the Vault until they met a hole so big it almost touched from wall to wall.

A vicious tear in the carved stone of the pavement, as if something gutted the pavement from underneath, exiting the darkness that lay under their feet. "Loki, we should go back... These marks are fresh..." the older whispered.

Loki didn’t listen, too rapt from the sight of the hole in front of them.

The small Jotun paced down the aisle of the Vault, touching the wall on his left as he walked inquisitively around the void. “What beast the Aesir ever managed to trap down there? Why?” Loki leaned slightly forward, taking a pebble from the side of the wall, rolling it between thumb and index finger.

He tried to search for memories, but he couldn’t sense anything from that little piece so he did the second thing he thought to do: Loki extended his hand over the hole and left the tiny rock fall down, starting to count.

One snowstorm.

Two snowstorms.

Three snowstorms.

He never heard the pebble land and both the brothers looked up to each other’s eyes. “Loki, the journey stops here, let’s go back.” Helblindi rumbled under his breath.

Or Loki thought it was his brother creating that sound, but he quickly found out that he was mistaken.

In the blink of an eye, everything moved, changed.

Loki felt a deep pressure at the back of the neck and as he turned, his blood-colored eyes could barely take in the shape of a silvery armor, half destroyed.

Its back against the wall with its metal limbs gnawed away, the only thing that survived was the helm.

The helm that now, under the shocked gaze of both Jotnar, opened like the petals of a flower.

An explosion of pure, silvery seidr hit the center of Loki’s chest, sending electrical charge down to the core of his magic.

The powerful hit sent Loki flying back right against the lip of the hole, making his bones crack under his muscles and his skin rip open under the jagged edges of the rocks.

A silent cry of agony left his throat as Loki couldn’t find the strength to hold onto the rim of the hole, feeling himself starting to fall.

“LOKI!”

Helblindi’s battle-ready reflexes snapped and his hand wrapped around both Loki’s curved horns an instant before he could be out of reach.

Loki dangled just above the dark and musky void, his eyes closed shut for the pain and the terror he was in. “I have you brother, I have you!” Helblindi tried to speak, but another shot of silvery magic grazed the taller Jotun on the shoulder, then again just above his head.

Loki was still short-breathed, the spasms in his chest sending mixed messages to his brain: he needed air but inflating his lungs made him feel a deep, throbbing ache in all his torso.

The rumble from before came back again, rocks and rubble shifting as something big padded underneath Loki. “Pull…me up! Blindi…! Pull me up…!” the younger brother called.

“I’m trying!” Helblindi shrieked, keeping his head low while more and more silvery bullets sank into his flesh, burning it black.

A growl, low as a thunder in the distance, shook the air around him.

Eyes as green as the most poisonous spell appeared just underneath Loki’s feet.

Time slowed down as Helblindi looked in the darkness, his eyes meeting a jaw wide open, teeth snapping closed on his brother’s form like a shark could do with a bait.

Black Jotun blood spilled and Loki screamed, screamed, his throat tensing and his free arm reaching up, scratching at his brother’s arm in a feeble try to escape.

The weight at the end of Helblindi’s hold became almost impossible to withhold as both Loki and the beast now pulled at the warrior’s muscles.

But what cracked weren’t Helblindi’s bones, even if he wished it was them.

No, Helblindi only could watch as Loki’s horns broke with the same, screeching sound of crystal shattering.

Could only see Loki’s beautiful, curved horns resting between his fingers and nothing more.

What was left of his little brother was his yell, shrill and desperate, that echoed into nothingness as he fell into the void.


	2. Chapter 2

Sounds were muffled as Helblindi tried to compute what just happened.

Loki was gone, disappeared before his eyes.

The Jotun felt as if his bones rattled inside him, his heart churning as his abdomen was still pressed against the edge of the hole.

His eyes still focused on the point where the cobalt figure of his little brother faded away, just beyond the form of the curved horns inside his palm. “No…no no no…! Loki–!” agony gripped his voice, choking them out of his throat.

“LOKI! LOKI!!” he shouted, hoping to hear anything at all; to hear anything indicating that his brother was alive.

If even a whimper would reach his ears, if there was even the faintest sliver of hope that Loki was still _there_ , Helblindi would’ve jump down in the darkness without another word.

Nothing replied.

Only silence followed the echo of his shouts.

Loki was dead.

His little brother, his clever brother was no more.

Helblindi had to physically wrench himself away from the vault: his soul was yearning the wish to search for Loki, take home what remained of him so they could give him proper rest.

But he couldn’t remain nor risk his own life because of what was left of the Destroyer, still firing at him with bullet of pure light.

Laufey just lost a son, Helblindi couldn’t let his father lose another.

The Jotun’s body was peppered with burn marks and his black blood was seeping out his offended veins; as soon as he reached the outside of that damned palace, Helblindi fell on the ground.

Leaves crunched as the big knees of the warrior sank among them, eyes blurring with tears that rolled down. Hot and thick, they followed the grooves of his skin and the ridges of his markings.

Helblindi howled in the pain of loss, in the grieving that accompanied the sense of guilt: he followed to make sure Loki was safe, to protect his little brother from everything!

His voice echoed in the empty forest-turned orchards, his hands trembling as he looked down at the horns in his palms.

They were so tiny, so small and fragile… like the first time he ever saw Loki.

> _“Helblindi, say hello to your new baby brother.” his mother said after months of pain, her face tired but happy to finally meet her younger son.  
> _ _“Can I hold him Mama? Please?” Helblindi pleaded. “He’s so small, will he even survive his first winter?” Byleistr had asked next to him, concerned.  
> _ _Farbauti only smiled, slowly passing the tiny bundle of furs to Helblindi. “Your brother will become a powerful Mage, one day. He’ll survive anything.” their mother said to them._

Memories flooded him and Helblindi was sure his heart was going to rip in half, in that moment. “He didn’t… he didn’t…!” whimpered.

Curling forward, Helblindi sobbed until the bright sun of Asgard died behind the faraway mountains. As night fell around him, Helblindi felt a hand on his shoulder before he even saw the white light of magical torches, a group of four Jotnar leaded by his father himself.

His face was tired with age and worry, but as his eyes loomed on Helblindi, relief washed them “You’ll be the death of me, boys.” he whispered, while the royal guards patrolled the zone. “Your Mother will bruise both your arses and I’ll do nothing to stop her. Where’s Loki?”.

Helblindi gritted his teeth, guilty still rolling on him like waves of a maelstrom.

How could he master the strength to tell his father that he couldn’t save him? “Loki… Loki fell.” he groaned, the pain in his body matching the one in his soul.

Then, as a way to explain better at his shocked, confused father, Helblindi opened his hands and showed Laufey the curved horns: one end jagged and sharp, so much they cut deep inside Helblindi’s palms while he held them to his chest.

Laufey watched the horns, the blood seeping out of them now caked and thick, then moved his eyes on the son in front of him, seeing his wounds for the first time. “A-A beast… inside the Palace… it took him and…!” Helblindi was trying to speak between his wretched sobs.

The King rose his other hand and pressed two fingers on his son’s lips, silencing his quivering words.

There was no need to explain, Laufey could see his son tried his best and held the proof on his tattered skin.

Everyone in the whole court, in all of Jotunheim, knew the love the Second Prince felt for his little brother, so much so others joked about Loki being his son more than his sibling.

Laufey’s hands cradled his son’s head and lowered his, making his spear-straight horns touch the ones of Helblindi. “Let’s go home…” he muttered, heartbroken.

 

°°°°°

 

Funerals were for the living, Farbauti often said.

Souls were already with the great Ymir when the ones left behind celebrated and mourned for the passed.

Now she thought the same, the Queen, as she walked silently behind the empty, slate coffin.

Laufey was holding it on his own, as it was so tiny in his arms; the stone’s dark color was polished to a mirror finish, with delicate carvings of wolves all around, for Loki ever loved those majestic creatures.

And it was a wolf that walked beside the coffin-holding King: tall as a bull and with white fur lined in silver streaks, Vali was the first animal Loki ever spoke to, in his young age.

A cunning creature, loyal and capable of complex thinking, was now mourning like all of them, its ears folded flat on its head and nose pressed against the coffin.

Byleistr right behind the King and Queen, was walking with his face held up and blank, but his eyes were purple on the edges because of the tears shed during the previous ceremony.

Helblindi, beside him, was a destroyed man. His back curved forward, his hands gripping at his own arms and he was asking himself how could his family not break down in shouts of agony.

Behind them a long line of Jotnar followed, one step at the time. The nobles of the court, the common people of all Utgard, few even from the edge of the Realm.

Everyone walked slowly, crushing the snow while holding high thin, hexagonal lamps in beaten silver.

They were shining a milky, white light through their frosted glass, making the snow of the Royal Cemetery glisten like diamonds.

A low, vibrating choir of sacred words was slithering in the air, the rolling of words mixing with the throb of cymbals at the end of the queue.

Laufey walked until his feet met ice and his eyes focused on a gargantuan wall of permafrost; columns and columns of shadows in it signed the presence of other caskets, while infinite rows of horns stood above names.

Curved, straight, short or long, marked the tombstones of the royals since the First King of Jotunheim.

As the monarch stopped, Farbauti motioned her feet as if she was dancing and one of her hands landed on the cerulean wall of cold crystal; the ice yielded under the thrall of the Queen’s magic and a little alcove opened in the wall.

The chants stopped around them and Helblindi gritted his teeth, seeing the slate coffin being lowered inside the niche. “Father… please.” he whispered, making a couple of steps forward.

Immediately, Byleistr’s hand went to grab his brother, well knowing what he was asking. “Let me search for him… please, it was my mistake!” the Second Prince pleaded again.

Laufey turned his head to watch his remaining sons and sighed deeply, shaking his head. “One early death is all that I can take, Helblindi.” the King muttered, his voice hard to keep the emotions at bay.

Farbauti, her peaceful face now crumbling after hours of chants, took Loki’s horns to her chest. “My child, Loki is no more-” “Mother, he’ll turn into a Draugr if he’ll not get proper burial! I… I can’t live with the thought of it!” Helblindi rebutted, shaking in his elder brother’s hold.

Loki, forever walking around the corpse of Asgard, moaning and roaring and not-living… it was Helblindi’s worst nightmare. “Please…d-don’t close the krystallgrav, give me a month…! A month and few guards, I’ll…” his words fell as Laufey stood motionless, soundless.

Then, the King only nodded once; slow and reverent, turned his back to the still open tomb and watched both his children in front of him.

Helblindi was the tallest, almost catching up with him, while Byleistr was one head smaller and with leaner muscles.

His children felt incomplete without the smallest of them, always smiling cunningly, always trying his best. “One week from today.” Laufey said, shoulders sloped. “For one week I’ll send guards and hunters to fetch for him. If the search party will fail, then I’ll close this alcove and with it every path to the Golden Realm.”.

Laufey’s voice boomed in the silent graveyard, shaking Helblindi to the core. “I’ll-” “Both of you will never set foot on Asgard again, Helblindi.” his father choked out any will to reply with his harsh tone.

Byleistr turned to his brother and leaned towards him. “Leave it, brother… Father is hurting already, don’t add to it.” he muttered, sad and wise like a Crowned Price would be.

Lips thinned on his teeth, Helblindi only nodded, bowing his head while his entire body trembled in the ache of _couldn’ts_ : couldn’t save neither his brother nor his corpse, couldn’t ease the guilt, couldn’t act like the warrior he was.

The Queen, her pace slowly and attentive in the soft snow, rose her free arm while approaching her second son, enveloping his shoulders in a sweet, melancholic embrace.

 

°°°°°

 

In the established routine of everyday, Thor found his newly status as King to be slightly easier than he previously thought.

The lands laid in ruins, the farms and water sources were struggling to keep the population alive, but at least he wasn’t stuck up with boring and useless political meeting with any of the other Realms.

He was away from the cavern-turned-throne room almost for the entirety of the day, running here and there to patch up what he could.

His mother took care of the healing chambers -carved into the pure rock of the mountains years ago- and his friends accompanied him in his journey through the lands of Asgard.

The people remembered the golden days of the past, but if there was something Aesir did well, was getting back on their feet and start anew; the loss of the Great War that Odin waged against the Jotnar made their spirits humbler, but their laughter was ever cheerful.

Laughs that Thor listened to as he walked near some rebuilt tavern in the outskirt of Old Asgard.

Blue eyes watched around, seeing the small market in the plaza sell everything they scraped from their previous homes, exchanging clothes for grains or new shoes for bottles of milk.

Thor let a melancholy smile creep out on his lips, one hand rising to massage his darkened beard while he contemplated over a blue-gold dress exposed in one of the stands. “It looks familiar.” he spoke with his rumbling voice and the seller woman chuckled. “My husband managed to find it in the ruins of the Palace, my King.” she spoke. “The Queen would like to have back one of her old dresses?” the merchant offered.

In an undecided motion, Thor passed his battle-hardened fingers through his dark-blond, short hair.

Every warrior shaved them down from the end of the war, for both convenience and shame. “It would be bad for me to give nothing in return.” Thor answered. “I only have my title and my strength, lady… tell me how can I repay the efforts of your brave husband and I’ll provide.” he then smiled a ghost of his old, bright smiles, like a sun covered in clouds.

The seller shook her head in disbelief. “You’re young, my King, and a kind soul. Your mother Queen keeps our children healthy and you protect us in the best way you can–” “Please.” Thor interrupted her, making one step towards the stall. “I am King, but that is not an excuse to rip your trade off. Ask away.” he chuckled, even if his words were slightly more stern.

The seller laughed, shaking her head before sighing. “Alright, I’m not one that'll make a King plead!” she chortled, taking the dress from the stand.

Carefully she wrapped it in thick, brown paper and kept it closed with a string of red ribbon. “I’ll ask of you for a healing stone, for keeping my husband from illnesses during his journeys throughout the lands.” the merchant smiled, knowing it was quite a price for a royal dress.

Healing stones were starting to become a luxury item, in those times without magic in Asgard and only the Queen was still able to create them, with the power she had left.

Thor smiled back, his tired eyes lighting up a little. “It will be done, lady, thank you.” he proclaimed, taking the wrapped dress in his hands as if it was an infant.

He then left, assuring the woman he would be back with the promised healing stone. “This will brighten up my mother’s mood for sure!” the blond King muttered under his breath, jogging towards the big horse he just came with.

Sleipnir was his father’s warhorse, proud and tall as the previous King of Asgard, but even after the war the stallion served Thor well through his speed and strength. “Let’s get to mother, Sleipnir.” Thor patted the animal’s neck.

The creature snorted, shaking his head and scratching a hoof on the paved ground, but as soon as Thor jumped on his back, the eight-legged horse started to trot.

Down the road, out of the refurbished town, up the hills and towards the mountains, the King left his eyes roam around.

Asgard’s nature was still beautiful and saturated, the orchards still gave them golden apples and the game in the forests was plentiful.

The golden skeleton that was the Palace shone like fire in the setting sun, far like a distant memory but always present with the trauma that left in everybody’s mind.

A wolf howled in the silence of the mountain’s track; a long, melancholy note that deepened more and more, until it resembled a growl.

Thor felt a little tug from his heart, remembering the same sound came the last day of their lives: the wolf his Father awakened in the sheer panic of a loosing war, hoping it would obey him like it did long before.

Fenris couldn’t discern friend from foe.

Fenris couldn’t help them win the war against Jotunheim.

The animal just rabidly attacked until everyone -Jotnar and Aesir alike- left the Palace’s grounds.

With a sigh, Thor guided the mount towards a carved entrance in the rock, tall enough for him to pass through with Sleipnir and wide one cart and a half, so supplies could be easily transported inside.

The healing chamber in front of him was just a glorified cavern, with a rounded and plain ceiling, lighted with a multitude of torches and filled to the brim with padded cots.

Few tables were in the far end, used during emergency operations, and Thor saw few healers go back and forth to the pantries where potions and ingredients were kept.

Thor stopped the horse right before the chamber and jumped off, leaving him behind with a light pat on the neck; the young King tried his best to not frown at the sight of the wounded and the sick, smiling and nodding to them as he passed.

Then, his lips stretched wider as he recognized his mother’s back, her regal stance still present despite their fall from grace. “Mother!” Thor called happily. “I brought you a present!” the King chided as he walked closer.

Frigga was sitting in her favorite chair, her hands well-weaved together and her cerulean eyes looking down at the occupant of the bed near her.

Old King Odin, still enveloped in the long slumber of the after-war.

The Queen didn’t respond to Thor’s voice and the young King tilted his head, searching for his mother’s sight. “Mother? Are you well?” the blond asked softly, putting his free hand on Frigga’s shoulder.

She blinked once, twice, then her pupils traveled through the space between Odin’s form and Thor’s face, smiling back at him. “Sorry, my dear, I was with a guest.” she replied, moving one hand to caress her son’s face.

Confused, Thor looked around before watching back at his mother. “A guest?” the man asked and Frigga chuckled. “Yes, Thor, a guest.” she replied. “A boy managed to rekindle my illusions in the Palace, we were speaking as you walked in.” the woman explained, ignoring the now alarmed face of her son.

Thor’s mind was aflame with worry: someone so young for his mother to call it ‘boy’ was in the Palace? “Mother, was he alone?” the young King asked and Frigga shook her head. “Apparently there is an older brother with him” she recounted around a little laugh. “He reminds me of Balder, gentle and cunning as he was!”

She moved her fingers, patting affectionately her son’s cheek. “It would be better if you go and–” the Queen’s voice stopped, as her eyes enlarged.

Her head turned to the side, as if she was listening to something far away.

Suddenly Thor felt it too: a wave of energy that caressed his very soul; looking down, Thor saw his muscles prickling with the tingle of green lightning. “What is this…?” he asked breathless.

Even Odin stirred in his bed, for a fraction of a second.

Frigga stood up from the chair, palming nervously at her gown. “Seidr, Thor. That was pure Seidr and… something happened, in the Palace.” she muttered under her breath.

Quickly the woman strode towards the exit of the healing chambers, closely followed by Thor. “The boy and his brother, where are they?” he asked, but Frigga shook her head. “I do not know, Thor…” Frigga fell silent as she watched outside the cavern, towards the gargantuan form of the golden Palace.

Thor felt the air sizzle with the left-over Seidr of that unknown rush, as if Asgard took one deep breath after years of asphyxiation, and there was a certain chill to it.

“I’ll go search for them…”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking a little longer, I had problems writing this down!  
> Also I appreciate all the kudos and the comments! They make my day every time çwç)b

The world turned into a constant wave of pulsating agony.

He had been shaken about like a piece of meat in the maw of the beast, while thick and sharp teeth sank even more into his muscles.

Loki could feel his body stretch to its limits, yanking away the air from him and the bitter taste of his own blood on the tongue.

_“LOKI! LOKI!”_

He heard his brother’s shouts, but as much as he’d love to reply, his chest was so compressed between the beast’s fangs Loki couldn’t emit a breath.

With his free hand, the small Jotun tried to scratch at everything he could take a hold on, leaving behind angry stripes in the thick fur of the creature.

As soon he left trails on its gigantic, humid nose, Loki got launched away as if he was a toy; his bones broke and snapped when he landed among the ruined rocks of the catacombs, bouncing on the hard ground like the doll of an unruly child.

Once the whirl of his body stopped, eyes closed shut and lungs inflating achingly in his mauled chest, Loki couldn’t understand if he was dizzy or nauseous… or both.

His head pounded with the same rhythm of his heart, mixing the sounds together with the heavy padding of the enormous beast; for every step it made, Loki grabbed on the rocks under his hands and crawled away, his legs covered in blood and unresponsive.

Then, low growls echoed in the cavern, sounds so deep and baritone that Loki could almost make words out of it… words in a language that he _understood_ as if he had the knowledge in the back of his head.

> **F I N A L L Y**

The beast’s muzzle had whitish froth all around the gums; tendrils of saliva drooled down its teeth in the anticipation of its easy meal, striped in Loki’s own blood.

> **F O O D**

Its head was pointed at him, lowered in the arched back and Loki saw the emerald of its eyes.

They were bright and full of hunger, the pupil shrunk to the size of a human fist by both madness and ravenousness.

In desperation, the young Jotun scraped for every bit of energy left in his body and rose a hand to instinctively cast a ball of green fire, as he usually did when threatened.

Instead of the well-known globe of green and gold magic, Loki felt a pressure pushing from inside.

His soul was ripping away from the fibers of his existence.

Then, another rush of pain erased the hurt of his gaping wounds and his skin felt hot and cold at the same time.

The sharp stubs on his forehead emitted sparks and blood like a river, drenching his face in it.

Seidr moved around him as crazed shards of light, like a suffocating creature fighting for its life.

With a burst of pure light, it exploded.

Unbridled, its power engulfed the entirety of the cavern, shining through the small aperture from where Loki fell: rocks flew away for the violence of the explosion, the beast yelped in pain while shaking its head and parts of the cavern started to crack.

Loki's form was another victim of that soundless blast and the mere force of the corrupted magic sent him backwards, against a little cluster of stalagmites and then through them, passing stone as if it was butter.

Again, Loki’s body rolled and slithered on the dust for what seemed to be eternity and when the world regained stillness, the little Jotun remained with the back against what seemed to be an ancient door.

Motionless, powerless, defenseless, his breath barely escaping his mouth.

He could hear the growls of the beast, the offended roars and creaks of the stalactites above their heads, but his eyes couldn’t see them starting to crack and fall around, blinded as he was by his own black blood.

Loki remained on the ground, his conscience fading in and out of existence while the stone roof gave away, one piece at the time.

 

°°°°°

 

Thor traveled all day, trying to find the quickest paths in the eternal and overgrown forest around Old Asgard.

His mother was sincerely worried about that sudden burst of Seidr and for what he knew, those kids were in a place where danger had nails and fangs.

Sleipnir was like wind and storm, each hoof hitting the ground was deafening thunder.

Thor was heeling his flanks in the hurry of reaching the Palace, every inch they advanced the King felt magic swiftly running through his veins.

Years have passes since their fall to Jotunheim, but he almost forgot the feeling of lighting in his blood and Seidr in his flesh.

The horse snorted and whined like a roar, when the earth under them and the air in their lungs seemed too cold for just being the season.

Thor's true blue eyes watched around as the animal stopped on his track, pounding the ground where he stood: through the branches and the leaves, there was a portal to a land Thor never saw, but knew as well as the back of his hand.

Jotunheim was beauty and silver and crystal, the ice breaking light in million different colors.

Thor dismounted from Sleipnir, leaving him in the darkness of a cluster of trees, and approached the fracture in the air; there were tense people, blue and tall, at the other end of the portal, blurred by the constant movement of the sheet of light that covered the entrance of the gate.

They were talking to each other, one of them constantly crossing and uncrossing the fingers of his hands.

Why there was a portal to Jotunheim?

Suddenly, to his left, Thor heard rustling in the bushes and as quick as possible he ran towards his horse, slipping on the ground and hiding in a little dip in the earth.

Soon, his eyes saw a short line of Jotnar walking through the forest, heads low and horns shining.

Thor couldn't see their faces, but he could hear a soft, agonizing mumbling among them. "I failed-... It's my fault-" only to be interrupted by a slow, rumbling voice. "No, it's not... The Palace is dangerous, as the rest of these lands.".

The Palace...? Thor furrowed his brows as he watched the frost giants pass through the portal and disappear in thin air.

Their enemy was here, what did they do at the Palace? Their victory wasn't enough, so they had to destroy Asgard even more by walking on these lands like they owned it??

Anger mounted inside Thor's heart and his teeth gritted in his mouth.

This strange seidr he was feeling... Had they tried to poison them through the very fabric of their homeland?

Jumping on his feet, Thor called for Sleipnir so he could go back and talk to his friends, his Generals, to plan a defense in case Jotunheim wanted to finish the job and annihilate all of them... when a rumbling came from underneath his feet.

Sleipnir whined and kicked, shaking his head and before Thor could understand what happened, another earthquake erupted from the bowels of the earth and a deep growl accompanied it.

Fenris was trying to escape? Was it the Jotnar's intent?

Then, Thor's mind clicked. "The boy...!" he gasped.

He almost forgot why he was there, damned Frost Giants!

Jumping on Sleipnir’s back, Thor circled around the big carcass of the Palace as fast as he could, the young King barely noticing old places now completely changed.

He zapped through his mother’s gardens. Galloped under the balcony from where his father watched over the entirety of the lands. Stopped his horse at the stables in the overgrown courtyard and ran on foot through the sand ring where he played and fought with his friends.

The place emitted such a wave of melancholy that Thor had to shake his head and command himself to focus on his rescue mission.

Dipping into the darkness that had overcast the place, Thor moved swiftly as a prowling lion, looking down into the dirt and dust on the decorated pavement: there were a set of two different footsteps, one bigger than the other.

The big feet of the Jotun that followed the slender one of what seemed to be the boy his mother spoke to, just a handful of minutes before.

Thor moved again, walking around the phantasm of his childhood, trying to ignore the multitude of memories flooding inside his mind; those memories held only pain, so it was only natural for him to try and forget, but how he could swallow back the tears?

He remembered Balder’s chuckle, as he pointed to ‘the best place to hide’ or to the ‘tallest window’ from where they both looked at the gardens, in their infancy.

Walking down the corridors, the young King almost heard that laugh, his younger brother always prone to cheerfully run back and forth alongside him.

Two happy Princes for a happy Realm.

Thor got yanked out of his reveries when something deep under his feet cracked and the walls of the Palace trembled in the rumble.

Everything shook as if the Palace was going to collapse on itself, but soon after everything fell into silence again. “The catacombs…” Thor whispered to himself as he started to walk again, trotting down the marble stairs.

Quick and precise, Thor reached one long hallway that spiraled down into the heart of the Realm, where the greatest of soldiers got themselves casted in iron to serve as warning for future generation.

_Beware the great army of Asgard_ , they said in unison with their ancient sacrifice, _for our souls belongs to her and she only we serve_.

At the end of the long spiral, Thor watched the enormous stone door once sealed and now broken, open and slightly slanted to show a wall of fallen rocks and rubble on the other side.

On the ground, from the distance, Thor saw a little shadow abandoned among the dirt and the King’s heart leaped in his throat. “Damned be all the Norns…!” he muttered under his breath, breaking into a run.

He almost slipped as his eyes noticed _what_ was really laying on the ground.

 

°°°°°

 

Long, inky hair now tangled with stones.

Skin as blue as the ocean, striped with the white waves of legacy scars; it looked soft and fair, but it was darkened with black blood and blacker bruises.

The miserable heap on the ground was a Jotun, smaller than any other one Thor ever saw and leaner than most of Asgardian men.

He seemed to be as big as a Jotun’s child, his horns barely poking out of his forehead and his bones showing through his skin… sign it didn’t have time nor strength to store some muscle mass.

The young King couldn’t think in that moment, his mind confused: why there was a young Jotun here? Why there were Jotnar outside?? What was the meaning of all this?

Had those Jotnar… took the child here to die, like a sacrificial goat?!

Thor felt a new wave of anger rise inside his chest.

How could they leave a child to die?? Yes he was small and slender, but it was… a child.

Even from an Aesir point of view he looked very young, barely into adulthood!

The King sighed trembly, mournful and with heavy heart, when he heard a moan; a slow, low and agonizing sound that came from the deep of the Jotun’s slender chest.

Then another sound came from blue, chapped lips, a gurgling that only preceded a new river of blood and cough. “H-H…el…” the Jotun spoke desperately.

A shot of shivers raced through Thor’s body, both glad to see the Jotun alive but nervous on what to do now.

_“They are enemies,”_ Thor’s mind whispered, “ _a quick death is all it deserves… continue with your search, you have an Aesir to find_.”.

_“But he’s still alive…! It’s just a child, too…”_ Thor thought then, seeing the wounds that peppered the small body.

Fang punctures, as wide as his open hand.

Gashes in his otherwise perfect skin.

Both his legs curled towards his chest in a fetal position, bleeding bones peaking out of his flesh.

One arm sprawled on the ground, the elbow folded at a strange angle and the forearm bent at another.

Fenris had a hold of this creature, but somewhat the Jotun managed to escape. “If he fought for his life until now, who am I to give him death?” Thor murmured, fixing his knelt posture by shuffling his feet.

Slowly, he moved a hand towards the Jotun’s shoulder, almost mesmerized by the circles and the swirls scarring his body.

_“Almost there, one couple of inches.”_ thought Thor.

 

… _Pat_ …

 

It was a quick touch, as fast as a cat, but when the blond checked his hand, the skin was healthy, with just few traces of black blood on the fingertips.

Thor tried again, now resting his palm on the Jotun; still nothing happened and instead of feeling cold skin, Thor’s brow furrowed in feeling it _lukewarm_.

It sure wasn't a good sign, knowing how cold the famed Frost Giants were...

Gently, Thor moved both his hands and arms underneath the small body, yanking another agonizing moan from his tired lungs. “I’m sorry… hold on…” Thor uttered before slowly, very carefully lifting the Jotun off the ground.

Dust rolled down and pebbles fell among one another, while the King tried to calm down the little whines and weeps of the Jotun with ushered sounds. “Shush little one, I’m taking you to safety…” Thor spoke, feeling his heart clenching as he watched the boy writhe in another bloody cough.

“Br-o…th…er…”.

The King froze when that soft, desperate plea came from the Jotun's mouth, a call that he already heart, from another pair of lips.

> _“Bro-ther…!” came the last gasp from Balder’s convulsing body, one icy blade still resting deep inside his sternum._

“You will… you will be fine…” whispered Thor as he turned on his heels; he quickly walked down the hallway, the bundle of blood and pain shivering in his arms.

 

°°°°°

 

When the moon rose high in the sky full of galaxies, far-away suns and worlds of every imagination, a growl came beyond the wall of rubbles in the deep catacombs underneath the Palace.

Stones became to crumble while thick nails and big paws dug the earth and the rock.

From the bent-open stone door, a pair of poison-green, enormous eyes peaked through a hole and a muzzle full of blood showed rows and rows of pearly teeth.

The wolf sniffed the air and licked its nose, before leaving out a low, rumbling laugh.

> **F R E E D O M**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  Left: Helblindi | Center: Loki | Right: Byleistr


End file.
